you don't get a vote
I could tell who she was even with the hijab covering everything but her eyes. Those eyes did the talking. Not invitation. Permission. The kind of look that has already decided what will happen to the body behind it.
I walked up without hurry. Stared until she had nowhere left to put her gaze except into mine. Then I took her by the shoulders and turned her into the wall before she could invent a reason to stop me.
Shock held her still. I ran my hands down her sides and dragged her leggings to her ankles. Baby-blue panties stretched over a thick white ass. I looked at them long enough for the thought to settle: I would take them later. Keep them. Smell them when she was gone.
I pulled her cheeks apart. She did not move. Not resistance. Not invitation. Something colder. Acceptance. She had already handed herself over and was waiting to see what I would do with the gift.
I freed my cock from grey sweats and dragged the head through the crack of her ass, gathering the wet already there. Plenty of it. Under the wet was fear. I could feel it in the small tremor of her thighs. Fear was useful. Fear meant she was paying attention.
I lined up and pushed straight into her ass. One long, unforgiving thrust that opened her wider than she had been opened before. A short, broken sound left her throat.
My mouth found her ear.
“The more you resist, the harder I go. Nod if you understand.”
She nodded. Then, quieter: “Yes, Master.”
That word rearranged the room. Control stopped being something I was taking. It became something she was offering, piece by piece.
I fucked her ass with only precum for lube, harder each time she clenched. When I wanted a different kind of control I pulled out, dropped to my knees, and pressed my face into her. She ground back without being told. I licked her open hole, then moved lower and ate her until her breath turned ragged and thin. She panted like someone running out of air. Then she came hard across my mouth. I took every drop. Clean plate.
I stood, took her arm, and walked her to the bed like she was already property. Threw her down. She rolled onto her stomach and pushed her ass up. No words. Just the position. She was asking to be filled.
I drove into her pussy and bred her without mercy. Hips, hands, rhythm. Balls slapping her clit. I kept the pace past the point where pleasure turns into something she could not name. An hour. Longer. Until her arms failed and she collapsed flat.
Still not finished.
I took the edge of her hijab, pulled her head back, and fed my cock into her mouth. Deep. Past comfort. Past the gag reflex. Spit and cum spilled over her lips and ran down her chin like she was drooling for it. She took every inch. I almost decided she had earned a softer ending.
Almost.
I reached under the bed for the rope I had left there earlier. While she stayed on all fours I bound her left ankle to the frame, then the right, spreading her until nothing was private. Wrists next. When I finished she was open and fixed. Completely available. Completely unable to leave.
I opened the bag and took out the ten-inch dildo.
“You’re about to get both holes used,” I said. “You don’t get a vote.”
She said nothing. Silence can be louder than begging.
I worked the toy into her already stretched ass, then slid my cock back into her pussy. Both holes filled. She could only take it. The sounds she made stopped sounding like pleasure and started sounding like surrender. She creamed around me until the sheets were wet. I kept going until her body shook and she went limp, spent, emptied of every defense she had walked in with.
One last slow lick across her ass. Then I untied the ropes and let her lie there while her breath came back.
She lifted her head. Voice rough. Eyes still those same eyes, only quieter now.
“Thank you, Master. You taught me a good lesson tonight.”
I gave her the look that meant she had performed correctly. Then I left.
I would be back the next night.
That was how I met the woman of my dreams. Not by accident. By recognition.
